uncertain 

i don’t know whether to trust myself

or trust the words coming out of your mouth

because at least you have this all figured out. 

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my constant company

a poet like me never gets lonely;

i have my words to caresss my lips

and my thoughts to hug me tight;

no i am never lonely,

not with my turtleneck warming my chest

and my heart beating as a constant drum of my extradorinary life.

my company lays inside,

my words

my heart

my thoughts;

oh how i am loved.

Paris is a dream 

take me to Paris

so i can butcher beautiful words and mimic foreign accents

and drink incredibly expensive coffee

and pretend i like tea at 3 in the afternoon.

i will walk around while simultaneously falling in love with the romance language subliminally spoken 

all around.

take me to Paris

so that i can take in the overwhelming scent of

freshly printed poems and bakery goods and cry because 

this city,

is truly,

alive.

i wait for Jesus 

i’ve been sinking on the low,

cradling my broken pieces in between bent arms,

trying to figure out what i’m going to do with them.

but i forgot that i didn’t have to figure it out alone,

because along with the puzzle, my heart was a riddle Einstein wouldn’t have the brains to solve.

i forgot who went before me,

followed behind me,

and in desperate times, carried me.

He knows my heart and has solved the riddle ages ago,

now we are both waiting:

i wait for him to show me what my eyes cannot see 

he waits for me to realize that he is all that i need. 

i wait for Jesus.

let me see Jesus. 

i want your mind 

your mind is honey to my mouth,

kiss me with your intellect and serenade me with your passions.

touch my heart and tickle my thoughts,

no physical contact is needed, let me in on what you’re thinking. 

alien

around me,

i see things you can’t see,

and i wonder why i’m here in the first place.

nothing to truly take in and ponder,

only mouths speaking somewhat of a different language and heads bobbing up and down to each other.

i don’t belong here.

and i think they see it.

or maybe they don’t care to see me,

but they make sure i see them.

in their hands, they hold trinkets and talk about gold cars and places,

in my hands i hold dust and dirt and make them dance in the wind of my imagination.

i am here

and that’s okay,

because i am allowed

to take up space. 

—–

i breathe out.